A Spring Moonshine

satchitananda · Jun 7, 2015

Dear OJ-da,

So good to read one from you. It left a very sad feeling in the heart, reading this story - sad for the father who had so much pinned on getting affordable tuition for his daughter, very sad for the daughter who was so capable, but her father was unable to afford her a good tutor and also very sad for you because of the feeling of regret you are living with.

Having said that, I don't for a moment fail to understand your stance at that point in time. Let us say it is a phase of life - a phase when one is growing up and wants to do well in life, earn one's own living, a phase when one is ambitious to make it big. It is not at all surprising then, that you were not willing to work for half the price. The finer feelings of life such as a desire to work for the sake of working and doing good, altruistic feelings come much later on in life when one has achieved what one wants to do. After that comes the stage when one works for the joy of working more than the monetary gains. So please don't beat yourself up over this one, though I can well understand the desire to know that the girl made it good in life, nevertheless.

ojaantrik · Jun 8, 2015

Dear Satchi,

I suppose each one of us has to put up with awkward situations. Each has to deal with them his or her own way. Perhaps she did well in life. Perhaps her father found a willing tutor who was willing to accept the wages offered. Why should I consider myself irreplaceable? Perhaps that tutor was very good too. I mean far superior to me. We cannot rule this out, can we?

I am reminded of another teaching experience now. I was older, probably finishing/finished my Master's. This was a girl too, finishing Class 10. I was offered Rs. 40 and I accepted the job. After her board results were out, I received a message that her father wished to see me. I was a little scared, for I suspected she had not performed well.

It turned out the other way. And they wanted to retain me for her Higher Secondary as well. Once again I wasn't sure about the right course of action. They pursued the matter, however, and sent a messenger whose responsibility was to find out what I expected to be paid now. She had reached a higher class now and they thought naturally that I had to be paid more. The messenger asked me how much more!

I think I had matured a bit and turned the table on them by replying I wanted Rs. 41. This created huge confusion in that family, because they realised they had to figure out for themselves what 41 was equal to!! But, much to my surprise, I received a confirmatory message. Okay, please start teaching was what they told me. And I agreed without trying to find out what figure their calculations had led them to. I think the lump in Cheeniya's throat will disappear when he realises that I kept teaching for a full month without any idea what they would pay me.

Well, at end of the month, the father walked into the room where I was tutoring and handed me a sheaf of notes and left without a word. I continued to teach that evening with a straight face without finding out the sum I had received! I couldn't possibly count the money in her presence.

After the session was over and I was on my way back home, I did investigate of course. It turned out that 41 equalled 50! I had a merry laugh and continued to teach her till her Higher Secondary was over. Cheeniya will be happy to know that I even remember this girl's name. Aparna Roychoudhuri.

But the story doesn't end here. She joined BA (Hons) following her higher secondary success. And once again they wanted me back. I was truly scared now. I didn't know if I was fit for the job. But they wouldn't let go of me. So, I had to give it a try. But I told them in all seriousness that I wouldn't accept any remuneration. I meant it and they knew I meant it. I was a UGC research scholar at the time and was receiving a monthly stipend of Rs. 300. So, I didn't need to earn by giving tuitions. This phase didn't last too long, for I soon received a fellowship from US and left India.

Several years later, I was back in India and came across the person who introduced me to Aparna's family. Much to my delight, I was told that she was working as an officer in SBI. I was quite impressed then and am wondering now if she had worked under Cheeniya in Calcutta.

All's well that ends well I guess. Cheeniya will forgive me now I am sure.

oj-da

hrastro · Jun 8, 2015

Dear OJ
Teaching is in my heart and soul and blood - Dr.S. Radhakrishnan for whom teacher's day is celebrated was himself a student of my Great grandfather

I have taught all my life - even when I was in 4th standard, my classmates used to ask me to help complete their homework.

Although I desperately wanted to become a teacher, I qualified for engineering at a premier institute and I worked as a software project manager and now a SAHM!

I continue to teach today - just because I love teaching - I teach maths.

And I can imagine the greatness of a student who wanted to do "tan" all by herself after the first time introduction to trigonometry !

I can imagine the sense of loss you feel - you missed a really worthy student (whether she got a better tutor or not)

When I start trigonometry I first ask the kids (10/11/12th std) - why are we learning this subject - the students just say - for marks or because the syllabus has it - they do not have the mind-space or time to think beyond and understand the WHY !

Now most of us pay lakhs as school fees for our kids and are still unhappy with the teaching!
So, when many parents of the younger kids (5th-6th) ask me to teach their kids and I have to refuse because of time limitations, I know the feeling of loss !

It is a loss of a good student
It is a loss of opportunity to shape a kid's future/interests
It is a loss of joy/satisfaction of a mission well executed!

But I'm sure the "little" girl did very well for herself - if not her intelligence, her spirit would have made her fight any odds !!

Kamla · Jun 9, 2015

Dear OJ-da,

Nice to see you here after a long time. Even nicer to read your snippet!!

While you walked those streets of Calcutta, you surely must have realized you were not alone! Looks like all of us who are reading you were walking those streets just as concerned as you were and looking up and down the road and buildings to find what you were looking for! And all that seems to happen in a sepia hue adding an old world charm which seem to jump out of some Ray movie.

Satchi almost robbed my words when she wrote that feed back above. I too think you have no cause to blame yourself. You were young and eager to earn your first few pennies and how will a young boy at that stage of his life realize what you are able to now? I cannot see any reason to blame you, lump or no lump in the throat. I firmly believe that her father found some other willing teacher just like he found you and I also get the feeling that she too ended up working for some branch of SBI...perhaps right under the nose of our Cheeniya?! Well, it IS possible?!!

However, it is good you did what you did at the time. Else, how could that little girl remain in your thoughts and be portrayed with such poignance by you so we all end up with lumps in our throats and smiles on our lips upon reading such a wonderful essay......

Any wonder it at once landed in FP of the month, thanks to @Meenasankaran.

L, Kamla

kaniths · Jun 9, 2015

There isn't much to say, as a junior ILite... Interesting read how you narrate the incident, I can actually visualize the sequences... I donot know how it feels to have not being able to teach a kid, I only know the other end story as its mine, being rejected by a teacher recently because he thought am not worth his time! I wish I had teachers like ILites who have commented here! The only good connection I have with teaching / teachers is... I was born on Teachers day!

Srama · Jun 10, 2015

Oh Oj-da, what a touching story. Memories I tell you, these are the ones that stay with us and memories like this that have touched our hearts remain there etched forever. There cannot be a solution to what you faced. You love teaching and she loved learning. What a perfect combination. Alas if only there were no material factor involved. I am sure on the other hand, you have made a huge difference to someone else. Perhaps it is the touching way you have written that makes my heart want to cry and rewrite a different story.

You must take us back to your younger days more often and I love this story telling style. I did see the snippet sometime back but wanted to read it when I have a few minutes where my heart and mind are at the right place, not being pulled by constant demands of life and I was right about that. Now this story will be etched forever in my mind. You know surprisingly when I read all the references to thetas all I could think of was my teachers wishing they were different. But then again, perhaps I could have been a different student too. May be. I don't know!

Amazingly well written and very recently when I was seeing some pictures of Calcutta, I did think of you. No, I am not saying this to just please you. Really! Beautifully written. I want to say keep them coming, but I also know I will take it when you write and lap it up!

Oh and that title! How enchanting it is!

ojaantrik · Jun 11, 2015

Dear hrastro,

I think I was interested in becoming a teacher since I was student of Class 7. As many I'Lites know, I was lucky enough to have come across a great teacher in my school. This was Mr. Utpal Dutt, who later chose acting as a profession. His classes used to be sheer magic for us, because he used his fascinating acting skills to teach us. I still cannot forget being introduced to Othello by the thespian.

It was not exactly a wish for me, I knew that I was destined to be a teacher. Not because of any special love I might feel for students, but because of my total commitment to an art form. Teaching has always been one of the highest forms of art in my perception. I am not sure if I ever looked upon teaching as a service to socity. Not that I didn't love my students and vice versa. But that was a corollary of the main theorem. I wanted to be an artist whose medium was teaching.

(My father too was a teacher in the medical profession. He was a competent teacher.)

I don't think I was ever a traditional teacher. Such teachers are far, far superior to me.

oj

PavithraS · Jun 11, 2015

After reading your post about your other student , Aparna Roychoudhuri ,SBI officer , I think your feeling for the previously mentioned , 'not so lucky girl' is more honest..

I am happy for having known you through this post...

When teaching has been reduced to the state of just being a paid job ,I salute the real teacher in you ..

Regards,

Pavithra

ojaantrik · Jun 12, 2015

Dear Kamla,

Believe me or not, I am writing this response a second time. Due to a technical problem, IL couldn't post the first response I wrote. I felt crestfallen, because I thought I had tried to make a serious point in it. Before I forget, I have to rewrite it, as I am doing now using the Word editor. Just in case it gets lost again.

The part of your comment I liked most was the assurance that you were moving through sepia Calcutta as I was grappling with my lost youth. I wish I can remember more. They don't always reveal themselves to you. You need to wait till torn fragments of memory float up through the mysteries of time and invade your consciousness. That's when you begin to stitch them up into a story. A story that you yourself never knew existed inside you.

Going over now to the question of morality, I really don't think I am anything more than a simple human being, "nor was I meant to be". I never played a social role in any sense of the expression at all. I am just a quiet bystander, observing the river of life flowing by. There are droughts and there are floods. I die of hunger, I drown in the waters and then re-emerge I know not from where. But I fail to make myself proud of anything at all. Except to recall Spring Moonshines. They could be silly talks, but they need not be. It all depends on the reader.

I saw your comment a few days ago, but waited till today to respond. I could have waited even longer, but today is the best day because I remembered a short story by Tagore called The Post Master. I don't know if you have read it or not, so I am attaching a link to a wonderful translation to be found in the Gutenberg Project. What amazed me today was that my little snippet came so close to the Tagore story. It was not plagiarism. I was not thinking about Tagore while I wrote my story. My story was an event that actually happened in my life. Tagore's tale too must have had its roots in the real world, but I doubt if the experiences were his own. Incidentally, Ray made a fascinating short movie of the story during the Tagore centenary. Here is a clip from that movie. (At the end of the clip, you will find the full short movie with English subtitles.) I am sure Cheeniya has seen this movie, but he might call it obsessively dark!!

When you read The Post Master, you will see that my failure was minuscule in comparison with the Post Master's. I had dealt with the girl for three hours at most. But the little girl in The Post Master was the protagonist's companion for a much longer stretch of time. Tagore finishes his tale pointing out the cruel reality of life. At the same time, he was too great an artist not to be aware of life's paradoxes. No reader of that story can ever fail to feel shocked as the story ends, just the way Cheeniya was after reading my snippet. At the same time, almost all readers of the Tagore tale finally decide that there was no other way things could have gone. Or else, the story would have counted as a melodrama at best. God didn't mean life to be a melodrama.

An important difference between Tagore's tale and mine is that he had not forgotten the name of the girl, Ratan. But then he was writing a short story. I have quite shamelessly forgotten the name. But then, I am not Tagore and I was simply writing a snippet of life. And after ruminating over Cheeniya's reaction, I think this is the best piece I have ever written.

Regards.

oj-da